


When I'm Left Alone

by Waywocket



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Crying, Cutting, Needles, Self Harm, self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywocket/pseuds/Waywocket
Summary: After coming home alone so often, Prompto thinks he knows why. He doesn't deal with it well.





	When I'm Left Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic warning! I know it has one but self-harm probably needs an extra one
> 
> So... I struggled a lot with this one and I'm sorry for the mistakes, I was working with a lot of information so things probably got jumbled. This one might get a continuation just so I can give Prompto a bit more healing than a couple sentances, kinda depends if it's worth the effort. Let me know what you think, it helps me get better!

“I’m home!” Prompto’s voice carried through the house but was greeted with only silence. Slumping his shoulders, the blond dropped his bag by the door and slid off his shoes. He knew there was hardly a chance they would have been home, but he had hoped. It had been a long day at the store and finally seeing them would have made him feel a little better, but he understood. You don’t make money sitting around at home.

Flipping on the lights and walking to the kitchen, Prompto opened the fridge and winced. Two eggs and half a roman tomato, at least it was something. Taking them out of the fridge, he opened the drawer and found he still had a little butter. Scrambled eggs on toast, not a bad dinner for someone down to a little jingle change.

Pay day was tomorrow, he could get his check when he went on his run, someone should be there that early at least. He could even go out for breakfast after, he put in enough extra hours last week. Everything would be alright.

Humming quietly now, he continued through the kitchen, pulling out a small skillet. Not wanting to clean too many dishes, he chopped the tomato on the plate he was going to use before throwing everything on the skillet and giving it a mix. As the eggs cooked, Prompto opened the nearly empty bag of bread and tossed a piece into the toaster. 

After clearing the dishes and cleaning up after himself, he sat back at the kitchen table, homework waiting for his attention. Pencil spinning in his hand, Prompto stared at the notebook in front of him, but it couldn’t hold his focus. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his parents. Had it been a week, a month, more? 

Shaking his head, the blond dropped his hand, the pencil clanking against the wooden table. There was no way it had been that long, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen their faces. Sure he was older now, but they wouldn’t leave for that long, right? Determined to prove it to himself, Prompto dug out his phone and checked his messages, there would be something there. Nothing. Messages from Noctis and the others sent his parents texts so far back they went to auto delete. Staring at his phone a moment longer, he willed an answer to come to him, before letting the screen go dark. 

Prompto’s parents had never spent a lot of time at home, but he felt like it was getting longer between visits. It wasn’t always like this though, they used to be around more. He could remember his mother tucking him into bed, and playing with his father when he was younger. Eventually, their work days got longer, but he understood, they needed to work to take care of him. Even when they started staying in hotels so they were closer to work, he understood, they came home when they could. 

Picking up his pencil, Prompto tried again to concentrate on his homework, even managing to answer a few questions before his eyes wondered again. This time, they fell to his wrist band, even when he was alone he was afraid to take it off. The plain green and cream band hid his deepest secret, one he couldn’t even tell Noctis, especially not Noctis. Dark lines with numbers and letters above and below. Ink that marked him as different, even if he didn’t understand why. It was something his parents swore him to secrecy to, warning him that Insomnia would be unkind if they found out he was from Niflheim. 

Running his fingers under the band, he felt the raised skin under his fingers. No matter how many times he cut and tore, it never disappeared or faded. Black marred the pink scars, impervious to his attempts to remove it. Was that why his parents left him alone so often? Were they sick of their traitorous born son? Once they were sure he would be silent, they never spoke of it again, were they ashamed of him? It wasn’t his fault where he was born, it wasn’t fair they left him alone. 

Standing quickly from the chair, he didn’t notice it clatter to the floor as it fell back as he moved to the kitchen counter. Prompto had always been the best son he could be, a bit of ink shouldn’t make him unworthy of love. Opening a drawer he paused a moment, they did love him, didn’t they? They could do at least that much, they chose him. They wanted him then, they should want him now, damn it! Grinding his teeth, Prompto started digging in the drawer, pulling out a paring knife. 

The ink may stay when he sliced at the numbers and lines, but if he cut it all off, there would be nothing left. Ripping off his wrist band, he hissed as the knife dug into the side of his left hand, dropping it into the sink. Staring down at the knife, he took a deep breath before holding it properly in his left hand. He could feel the blood slick the handle, but he kept himself steady. If his parents hated the bar code so much, he could fix it. 

Taking a deep breath, Prompto pressed the blade against his skin on the edge of the tattoo. Like peeling vegetables, he tried to convince himself. Digging under his skin, Prompto cried out as the metal slide under the ink. Pushing on, he felt the blood slipping down his hand and dripping into the sink and counter. 

Tears pricking at his eyes, Prompto dug deeper, biting back a sob. Daring to look down, he felt the tears fall, he was hardly more than an inch in. He had to keep pushing, he jerked his hand, pulling more of his skin free. Letting himself sob once, he felt the sting dig deeper, he could finish this and be free. 

Blood was quickly dripping off his fingers now, the blade completely buried under his skin. Taking in another deep breath, he pushed as hard as he could, crying out at the pain. His hand fell from the handle slick with blood. The knife slipped from his skin, crashing to the floor at his feet. Reaching for it, Prompto finally took note of all the blood on his hands, and around him. 

At first, there was nothing, only a numb detachment to the scene in front of him. Lifting the wrist to his face, Prompto watched as the blood shifted, running down his arm, ribbons of red ran lazily down to his elbow, clinging in droplets. There was too much blood, some part of his mind knew that, and that small voice of reason brought him back to reality as the pain throbbing through his arm continued.

Pressing a hand to the wound, Prompto felt the sobs threatening again, bubbling in his chest. How useless he was, too weak to remove the bar code and save himself. There was no place in the world for someone so weak, he thought. No wonder his birth parents abanded him, and his adoptive parents left him alone. 

 

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes tight enough stars bloomed. Noctis cared about him, he was his best friend, the others too. Gladiolus and Iris acted like they enjoyed his company, and Ignis was always patient with him, teaching him things if he asked. They did really like him, didn’t they? Only because they don’t know what you are, a voice supplied somewhere in the dark of his mind. If they knew, they wouldn’t treat him the same. Everything was a lie.

 

Fighting his own thoughts, Prompto turned on the sink, running cold water over his arm, trying to clean it up. He knew this road, and he couldn’t keep going down it. He was a Lucian, he would always be a Lucian, tattoo be damned. He would tell Noctis and the others when he was ready. Looking into the sink, he saw the water still tinted red and cursed under his breath. Of course, he needed stitches. Wrapping a towel around his wrist, he watched the blood bloom under the cloth before grabbing another to clean up his mess. Maybe it would stop bleeding before he finished and he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

Looking the kitchen over, Prompto smiled, a small turn of his lip. No trace of blood left behind, except, he looked to the cloth, it was ruined. Soft white stained crimson, it would have to be tossed. Making sure to bury it under the rest of the trash, just incase, he turned his attention to his wrist. Blood was still soaking through the fabric, covering most of it now, Prompto groaned.

There was no way he could walk into the ER and show them the bar code, “Hey mind stitching this back on for me?” He laughed at the thought before letting out a sigh. Last time he needed stitches, Iris had managed with some special bandages, but he forgot what they were called. All he knew was he didn’t have any and the blood wasn’t stopping. Ignis knew everything, he would know what to do, but he couldn’t ask him without telling the advisory what had happened, even if he didn’t have the bar code he couldn’t do that. Though Ignis did teach him how to sew, and he was pretty good at it. 

Daring to look under the small towel, he winced, the skin he had pulled away stuck to the cloth and pulled away easily from the rest of his wrist. He was pretty sure this wouldn’t kill him, but he was feeling a little light headed already. Pressing the towel back down, Prompto made his way to the small sewing kit he left in the living room. Once he had it sit on the coffee table, Prompto looked inside at the needles he had to choose from, and promptly ran to the bathroom to vomit.

His shoulders were shaking and his stomach was tying itself in knots. This was dumb, he was dumb, everything about this was dumb. There was no way he was going to be able to sew himself up, the idea still made him heave after he already lost his dinner. Staring into his kit, he thought about kicking it away, but with his luck, he would find the needles with his feet. Leg bouncing as nerves took over, he glanced back to the kitchen and saw his phone on the table. He couldn’t ask his friends for help, but his phone did have internet.

A little wobbly, Prompto stood, making his way to the table. Unlocking his phone, he pressed the search bar and searched for tips to stop the bleeding. He was surprised to find just how many links he had to choose from, at least here he wasn’t alone, though the thought brought little comfort. After going through a few sites, he put his phone away. There were options other than stitches, he just hoped this worked. 

In his bathroom, Prompto cleaned the wound, the alcohol burning as it seeped under his skin. Iris patching him up came to mind, ‘If it hurts, it’s working.’ Laughing a little at the memory, he placed a thick piece of gauze over the cut, before wrapping more around it. Turning his wrist over, he admired his handiwork. It looked like it would hide under his wrist band easily enough, he was rather proud of himself, even if he was still mentally kicking himself for doing it in the first place.

After everything was cleaned up and homework dealt with, Prompto shut off all the lights and crawled into bed. He could see the faintest bit of blood, but he hoped it would be fine by morning. With a sigh, he pulled the blanket over his head, everything would be fine in the morning. He would quit this, maybe work on telling Noctis about everything. Eventually. First, he needed to learn to take better care of himself, no more nights like this, he could do that. With a yawn, Prompto snuggled into a chocobo plushy and let himself drift off, thinking about happier things, how his friends cared for him.


End file.
